Phoenix
by theinsomniakid
Summary: One-shot. Zoe's bad dreams keep her from sleep, but River's insight brings some new thoughts to light. Set Post-BDM.


Phoenix

Zoe jerked awake, cold sweat beading her forehead and sheets hanging off the edge of the bed from her unintentional thrashing. She lay still, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat and focus on the cool pillow beneath her tangled hair. It was the same dream again, every time she slept the same nightmarish visions that she tried so desperately to shut out in her waking hours.

It was easier then; there were jobs when she was awake, cargo to move, negotiations to attend. Everyone was learning a new way of life on _Serenity _after the incident on Miranda. Simon and Kaylee were borderline inseparable these days, spending whatever free time they had secluded in quarters or being affectionate, though they kept it to a bare minimum around her, even almost a month after… well, after everything happened. Their smiles and laughter would always rapidly shift to awkward looks and hushed whispers, and the distance between them would suddenly become feet instead of inches. She hated the looks; Zoe didn't want pity from anyone, especially not her closest friends and crewmates.

The captain didn't pity her, but that was because he had his hands full with running a ship and supervising River's pilot training. He wasn't training her of course; the girl was so full of brains she barely needed a watchful eye. But it gave him something to do when he wasn't finding jobs or bickering with Inara. Not that the fights were very spirited anymore; petty arguments had lost their urgency in recent times. Even Jayne, usually the first to challenge Mal for his right to blow things up, had stopped bringing grenades along on jobs. He didn't treat Zoe any differently, but that's because he was Jayne; out for himself and unconcerned unless the person interfering with his personal goals was trying to kill him or stealing their cargo.

The rest of the crew though… Zoe sighed thinking about them, rolling over onto her stomach and staring blankly at the wall. They treated her like she was made of glass, ready to snap at any moment and come crashing down around their heads. She was spoken to in hushed voices, given sympathetic smiles, even given permission to remain behind on runs and negotiations. She sighed irritably; it was frustrating and embarrassing.

She hadn't been overly emotional in front of anyone, barely even herself for that matter. She permitted herself tears regularly, but only in the privacy of her own room, and only after the horrible visions that filled her mind during sleep, when tears could not be avoided. She drifted back to them now and felt the tears well in her eyes, her fists clench against her pillow and her teeth grit in grief. It was the same every time, the same crystal-clear dream of that day, their desperate journey to reveal the truth. Their perilous landing on the surface, and the beatific smile on his face, her husband's face, as he sat so proudly and jubilantly after their landing…

Until suddenly, all of it stopped.

Her leaf on the wind, gone. Even a month later it was a blow, and a painful one to receive. She lay in her bed, pulling the sheets up to her chest and allowing herself a gentle sob or two through clenched teeth as the face of the man she loved refused to remove itself from her mind.

"Wash…" she whispered, choking through tears.

She stayed that way for quite some time, until the sobs subsided and the shaking ceased. As she breathed again and became more aware of herself, she felt her stomach heave. Cursing, she sat up and struggled out of the sheets, heading for the nearest convenient receptacle, which welcomed her choked coughs and retching. She hated that the dreams and crying did this to her; it was hard enough to eat as it was without her stomach protesting everything she put in it, as it had done in recent times.

She wiped her mouth when she was done, scowling and stumbling over to the haphazard pile of clothes she had left on the floor the night before. She sighed as she picked them up; she used to keep this place so tidy and neat. There didn't seem to be much point in it now; no one was ever down here but her.

She pulled on her pants, found a shirt under the bed and grabbed her boots. Sleep wasn't going to happen for a while, so she might as well find something to do in the interim between now and the rest of the crew rising.

The kitchen area was deserted, all the seats of the couches empty and the table free of all but the occasional wayward dish and a pile of books. Zoe drank a glass of water, spitting a few times to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth before downing it and taking a deep breath. It would be hours before anyone else joined her in the waking world.

She made to sit down at the table with her glass and one of the books Simon had left in a pile for River to read, but before she could sit she heard a soft singing coming from the corridor leading up to the cockpit, echoing into the kitchen.

"_When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be."_

Zoe slowly walked away from the books on the table towards the echoing corridor, wondering who else could be up at such an odd hour.

"_And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me, whisper words of wisdom, let it be."_

She made her way up the metal staircase into the familiar room of panels and lighted screens, the plastic dinosaurs still staring out into the black beyond the glass windows. River sat in the copilot's seat, looking out at the passing stars, her voice soft but resonant as she sang to no one in particular.

"_Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be, whisper words of wisdom, let it be." _

She turned her head slowly away from the stars, obviously not finding Zoe's presence a surprise, and reached up to brush a lock of her dark hair away from her face.

"Trouble sleeping?" the girl asked, her eyes wide and wandering around the room. She had become a great deal more lucid in recent weeks, but she still had her moments that clearly showed the damage that had been done to her in the past. "Do the stars call to you too?"

Zoe attempted a smile; her face was not used to the expression after her weeks of grief, but she ignored the stiffness of the muscles as she spoke. "I suppose they do," she said. "In a way."

"They never sleep," River said, looking back towards her console and the navigation screen. "That's why it takes so long for us to catch up to them; they're always on the move, always running away from us. But we catch them in time."

Zoe nodded, unsure, as usual, of exactly what River meant by any of her ramblings. "I'm sure we do," she said.

River looked at her, head tilted slightly to the side. "It all takes time," she said, her voice still holding a mildly sing-song quality in its tone. "Everything passes, changes, grows," the girl smiled at her again. "And out of the ashes, a new phoenix always rises."

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "New phoenix?" she said, trying to hold back her incredulity.

River nodded, still smiling. "Old life ends," she said, spinning around in the revolving chair she sat in. "New life begins." She giggled softly to herself and began to sing again. _"Let it be, let it be, let it be…"_

Zoe blinked, trying to wrap her head around what the girl had said. Instinctively, her hand moved slowly away from her side and up to her stomach. New life begins…

"I should probably visit your brother sometime soon," Zoe said to the now spinning River, who was no longer singing but humming to herself with a smile on her face.

"He'll be happy to see you," River said, stopping the spinning chair and slumping to one side in it, clearly dizzy. "We all will. New Phoenixes always have friends to greet them in the sunlight."

Zoe shook her head and smiled, wondering if what the girl had implied was true. River was an unbelievably perceptive girl, psychic even if you believed in such things. But there were other reasons to visit the good Doctor when he awoke; the stomach illness for one thing, as well as the frequent emotional outbursts that weren't entirely to do with grief in her opinion.

She turned and left River humming in the cockpit, heading back to the kitchen and the stack of books, her hand still pressed gently against her stomach. The smile remained on her face, and as she sat down a few small tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. If it were true… she continued to smile as she sat in silence and solitude. If it were true…

"Wash…" she whispered to herself, staring at the books without focusing. For the first time in a month, she realized as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, she did not ache with grief. She still missed him more than she had ever missed anything in her entire life, but behind all that sorrow and loneliness, there was a tiny glimmer, the smallest and warmest spark of a new and unfamiliar hope.


End file.
